“And when I told them about the stolen gold, Alasdair pointed at a sack under my bed. ’Twas the same sack that had been stolen from me in the woods.”
Amber shook her head. “Someone set you up.”
She believed him… Relief flooded him. “Aye. Alasdair blamed me for stealing the gold.”
She shook her head. “Why did the MacDougalls betray your clan?”
“King Balliol gave a part of their lands to our clan for good service. They wanted us to fall out of his good graces and take their lands back. But what they did started a feud. ’Twas the beginning of the end. ’Twas a trap, and I fell for it.”
“Not just you, your family, too. Did they believe Alasdair, or did they believe you?”
“Alasdair.”
“See, they fell into the MacDougalls’s trap, too.”
“It wasna their fault, though. Given my reputation, it wasna surprising. I was a troublemaker. Unpredictable. The black sheep.”
“Yes, but couldn’t your father see you were incapable of stealing no matter how unpredictable you were?”
Anger rang in her voice, and her beautiful eyes threw daggers. His own clan hadn’t believed him, and yet this lass, a stranger from another time, did. Elation radiated through his whole body. He couldn’t be more thankful to the faeries or destiny or whoever sent Amber here to him.
“Nae. My da couldna. But it doesna matter anymore. My brother Craig and my cousin Ian came to believe me; although, Domhnall and Da still dinna completely trust me. Rightly so. I’ve done other shite I’m nae proud of.”
He meant Inverlochy, of course. Getting Lachlan killed. Losing the siege to the English. Getting caught. Getting Amber tortured. That was all on him.
“But now that I ken where the MacDougalls and the English are going to attack, I can help the clan. I just hope they take my words seriously this time.”
He hoped that when they saw a beautiful woman at his side, they wouldn’t assume he’d been duped again. He had to keep his mind and hands off Amber long enough to do the responsible thing and warn his king.
Chapter 17
Two days later…
* * *
“What now, lass?” Owen said.
They sat on their horses on top of a small hill. Amber stared at Glenkeld, the small castle on the shore of the loch. The loch was still, and the castle, hills, and mountains were reflected on its smooth surface. Tiny compared to Stirling, it had one large, square tower and four curtain walls, more or less like Inverlochy. Smoke rose from somewhere behind those walls. Sheep and cows grazed around the castle walls, and the air smelled like manure, grass, and flowers.
This was Owen’s home.
Not hers.
Amber bit her lip. Where was her home, anyway? Ever since her mom and dad died, and Jonathan sold the house to divide the profits between them, she’d had no place to come home to. She’d let go of her apartment before she went to serve in Afghanistan. In a way, the army was her home.
Until that home had betrayed her.
So what now?
What she really wanted was to go back to her time, get the murdering, drug-smuggling bastard behind bars, and clear her name. A life in hiding, of looking over her shoulder, of anger at the injustice, would eat at her soul. If she were brave enough, she would make her way back to Inverlochy and go through the stone back to the twenty-first century. She’d go to Jonathan. She’d hire an attorney, and she’d work relentlessly on gathering evidence against Jackson.
But those were only dreams. The reality was Jackson would crush her. She wasn’t strong enough to take on a giant like him. She’d never confronted her brothers in the past, and she hated that she was a helpless coward.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I definitely can’t go back to my time. They’ll get me there.”
Owen presented a magnificent view—a medieval warrior sitting proudly on a horse. A strand of his blond hair fell across his forehead. The bruises on his face added roughness to his handsome features, and his bristle was turning into a short beard the color of wheat, white gold, and a little bit of amber. She could sink into his green eyes and be lost there forever. That would be a wonderful home for her.
“So if ye canna go back”—he swallowed—“what will ye do?”
He was perfectly still, waiting for her to reply, and yet she could see his chest rising and falling faster, and the vein in his neck pulsing quicker.
What would she do? She could stay here in this time.
Was she actually crazy enough to consider that? The brawny Highlander in front of her had nothing to do with it. It was safer here…for the most part. When she wasn’t being chased and tortured by the English.
“I suppose I could stay here. Your family won’t want to put me in a dungeon, will they?”
He laughed. “Nae. Ye’re safe with us. And I promise de Bourgh wilna touch a hair on yer head if I have any say in that. So will ye be a guest of our clan?”
“A guest? Sure. And thank you for the kind invitation. But what could I do here? How could I earn money? I don’t think I can do anything that’s useful here.”
“Usually, women get marrit, and their husbands provide for them. I could ask the clan chief, my uncle Neil, or my da to find ye a husband.” His jaw tightened as he said that.
Amber laughed. “I’m not going to get married in medieval Scotland!”
“If ye plan to stay here, ye’ll need someone to protect ye. Even a strong lass like ye needs either a father, or a brother, or a husband.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine on my own. Maybe you can teach me some of that sword-fighting so that I can protect myself.”
“Aye. I can. But first, let’s go home.”
For the last two days, on their way from Stirling, they’d been careful to avoid the roads as much as possible. Dressed as English, danger lay from both the Highlanders who could kill them on sight, and from the English who might find out they weren’t English at all. Not to mention de Bourgh’s men were no doubt still looking for them.
Owen fascinated her. Not only was he eye-candy, but ever since he’d shared the story about the gold, she couldn’t help but feel a connection to him, like a miracle had happened and she’d scored a winning lottery ticket.
She loved riding next to him, and he told her more stories about his clan, explained about the war, and told her about Craig and Ian. She’d slept by his side, but he hadn’t tried to kiss her or made any move. He’d lain next to her as stiff as a statue.
She was puzzled by the sudden physical distance he kept after how close they’d been earlier, and she was also a little hurt by it. Why was she so unattractive to him all of a sudden? He’d wanted her before. She’d seen his very impressive erection in the inn. She’d felt it in his kisses and in the simple touch of his hand. In his hug. Was he so appalled after her confession that he couldn’t stand to touch her now?
Not that it should bother her at all. Caring for him would complicate everything. It was something she couldn’t afford.
They rode towards the castle and stopped in front of the gates. Archers stood on the wall, arrows pointing at them.
“Who goes there?” a male voice rumbled.